


The Canvas

by darkestbliss



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Body Paint, Cuddling, Fluff, In the Flesh Advent Calendar 2015, Kissing, M/M, they're so in love, undead boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 23:25:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5763001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkestbliss/pseuds/darkestbliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kieren paints. Simon is his canvas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Canvas

**Author's Note:**

> This was my entry for the 2015 advent calendar which I only just realised I never posted here.

The Kryolan paints were different than anything Kieren had ever used before. The pigments, the texture, the saturation, they were all brand new experiences for the hands of the young painter. He looked down at his bare thigh, which he was using as a palette, meticulously deciding which colour to use next. Dabbing his brush, he sat back, admiring his work so far. There was a soft chuckle from his canvas and his face split into a large grin.

 

“Stop moving,” Kieren whispered, lightly touching Simon’s rib as the man sighed happily. It was warm beneath his hand, the skin pale but alive. He knew that just below his touch, blood was flowing, cells were working.

 

Kieren paused for a moment, setting his paintbrush to the side and letting his hands roam Simon’s back. He marvelled at the way goosebumps broke out over his lover’s skin, his fingertips no longer numb, leaving trails of ice and fire.

 

“Kieren,” Simon drawled. “You’re getting distracted.”

 

“M’not,” Kieren said with a hint of a smile, picking up his paintbrush again. He let the bristles come into contact with Simon’s skin again, marking it, claiming it. Pausing for a moment, the brush stopped atop the long, healing scar that ran across Simon’s back; the skin surrounding the once gaping wound was now a flushed pink that ran parallel to the large expanse of mauled skin. Soon, Kieren thought, it would be nothing more than a numb strip of white scar tissue to Simon, a reminder of all they’d been through together. 

 

Kieren’s own scars were beginning to close as well. Children no longer stared or hid behind their mums when he exposed his bare wrists. Warming up was… Strange. Kieren had thought he wouldn’t want to turn back, to become alive again, but as he saw open flesh turn to crinkled scars, it was like a new chapter was beginning - a fresh start for him and Simon. Before they warmed up, before they became alive again, there were barriers between them and the world; now everything was open to them, a vast array of places to go and things to do.

 

For the time being though, they were enjoying the simple things - weekend holidays to the sea, dinners out at French restaurants, lounging in bed for entire mornings as the sun streamed in from behind dark clouds and lace curtains to warm their skin. Kieren was enjoying every moment spent with his Simon.

 

As the younger dipped his brush back into the paints, violins and guitars drifted through the air, The Smiths’ ‘The Queen Is Dead’ spinning hypnotically on the record player in the corner of the room. Kieren carefully set his brush down onto Simon’s skin again, watching, intrigued, as the pigments took to the marred scar.

 

There was something just absolutely intimate about the texture of the bristles and the scar, forming together to add depth and beauty to the landscape Kieren was painting on his boyfriend’s back. A thick stream of light and dust danced in the air, making the two of them look like they had been sat on that bed, intertwined and nude, for hundreds of years. Only a few months previous, that very thing could have been possible; Kieren sure wouldn’t have minded spending infinity with Simon. Where before he wanted nothing more than to escape from the darkness of the world, he now wanted to spend every moment in the precious light that filtered in with his Simon. He was not sure if his boyfriend felt the same, though he liked to believe that his presence made the other man finally enjoy his life as well. 

 

“Do I look pretty?”

 

Simon’s rich yet soft voice pulled Kieren from his thoughts. A smile ghosted over Kieren’s lips as he watched the way his eyelashes batted down, casting faint shadows over his ivory cheeks. “You look very pretty,” Kieren said, dabbing his brush into more paint and retracing a spot at the edge of Simon’s ribcage.

 

“I want to see,” Simon drawled, fidgeting a bit.

 

“Patience! You’ve only been sat here for ten minutes. Plus it will ruin the surprise if you see what it looks like before I’ve finished.”

 

Simon pouted, puffing out his chest but obediently sitting still again. Kieren continued to coat the Irishman’s skin in paint and took extra care in filling in all the blank spaces with colour and emotion. There was nothing he wanted more than to paint on Simon, to memorise all the parts of him by the way they act as a canvas. He paid close attention to all the small little lines and grooves in his skin, making his masterpiece as beautiful and detailed as he could; Simon deserved nothing less of beautiful. 

 

“You know,” Simon mused lowly. “I’ll bet I would be perfectly content to just sit here and let you paint on me for the rest of eternity.”

 

The words were quiet and drawn out in Simon’s long voice, but to Kieren, they meant the entire world. The younger felt an unfamiliar heat blossom through his chest, a heat that was both pleasant and welcomed. He set his paintbrush down. “Do you really mean that?” he asked quietly, hoping that he had heard everything correctly and that Simon wasn’t just mumbling nonsense like he often did.

 

Simon turned around to look Simon straight in the eye, his eyebrows furrowing and his forehead crinkling. “How could I not?” He took Kieren’s still hands in his own. “Kieren,” he said earnestly. “You are my world now. I know I may not be the best boyfriend in the world. I get angry easily and I can be fidgety and irrational and sometimes I just don’t understand social situations. But do not doubt for one moment that you are my entire life, because you are.”

 

Time stood still for a few moments. White noise overcame the soft drawl of Morrissey’s voice and Kieren felt for a few seconds as if he was floating with no gravity to pull him down.

 

“I love you, Kieren Walker. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

Kieren blinked, coming back to Earth to find Simon staring at him intensely. He lunged forward, crashing his lips to Simon’s just like he had the very first time, his hand coming up to cup his lover’s jaw. The kiss was needy but soft, like Kieren was afraid he’d blink and wind up alone in that dark enclosed coffin again. He gripped onto Simon for dear life, stuttering and pulling away as breath seemed to be whisked away from him. He looked down between them, at the piles of blankets and entangling of their legs, his chest heaving.

 

“It’s okay,” Simon whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Kieren’s forehead. “I love you.”

 

“I know,” said Kieren, allowing himself to be held tightly. “I know now. I love you too. So much.” 

 

They sat entangled for a few minutes before Kieren extracted himself from Simon’s arms, giggling when he looked down at himself and the white bed sheets. There was paint everywhere and the portrait that had been painted on Simon’s back previously was now an unrecognisable smudge of colours. 

 

“Well,” he said. “That was unintended.”

 

Simon chuckled and pressed one more kiss to Kieren’s lips. “I guess you’ll just have to start it over then.”

 

“I guess I will,” Kieren replied with a smirk and a twinkle in his eye. 

 

Simon moved to rest on his side, exposing his back and its expanse of colour to Kieren who reached for his brushes and paints again. The sun was just beginning to set and fairy lights were twinkling above the window. Their first day of eternity was coming to a close, but Kieren knew they had many more to cherish and love.

 

 

 

 


End file.
